


A Little Off The Top

by tcwordsmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:57:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcwordsmith/pseuds/tcwordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas reorders his priorities; Meg is less than thrilled to pick up the slack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Off The Top

“Yeah, okay, it’s way past time for a haircut, you’re turning into Grizzly Adams,” Meg twirls a pair of scissors around her finger and smirks when Cas looks up from his sketch book. His fringe is so long he has to brush it back to see her clearly.

He furrows his brow and looks at his hands and his chest, his hair falling in his eyes again, “I believe I’m still in the same vessel.”

Meg rolls her eyes and pats his shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, still one hundred percent grade A Jimmy Novak. C’mon, up and at ‘em, I’m pretty sure I can see your hair growing even longer.” Cas closes his sketch book and sets his pencil box on top before tucking both under his arm and following her back to his room.

She leads him into the bathroom off his room and indicates the chair in front of the mirror.  “See? I got a cape and everything. Sit yer ass down, we’ve got some work to do.”

He sets his sketchbook on the counter next to a small black bag and sits down. With a flourish, Meg unfurls the cape and drapes it around him before picking up the scissors again.

“I’d ask you how you want it, but frankly, if you’re going to be this lazy and make me cut it, then you don’t get a say in the matter,” Meg murmurs, running her free hand through his hair and moving his head around.  Cas has learned a lot about unbeing stone since he woke up; Meg’s just glad he’s easy to move around. “It’s like a damn forest up here. Did you lose Hansel and Gretel in this mess?” She starts making layers with her fingers and snipping them all the same length.

Cas seems to know better than to shrug, but he replies, “I don’t believe there are any gingerbread houses on my head.”  He studies their reflections in the mirror.

She doesn’t reply, but on the next pass, Meg catches the tip of his ear with her scissors, “Shit, my bad. Smart ass.” She checks his ear but he’s already healed the cut.  “Seriously? Your head and face look like a fuckin’ rats’ nest but you’ll heal the tiny cut on your ear?” She shakes her head and uses her knuckles against the side of his head. “Turn,” she insists.

Cas turns his head and does shrug this time, “It seemed more necessary.  I wasn’t aware anyone would mind my vessel’s hair growing longer.”

“Well I mind. You’re going to start getting food stuck in your scruff,” Meg stops cutting and reaches around to tug on some of the scruff by his jaw. “Which will be disgusting and my job to clean up. So, it’s an issue.” She resumes separating and cutting.

Cas is content to let the silence be, he traces Meg’s trueform against his thigh, smiling to himself when his peripheral vision catches it in the mirror. He shifts in the chair, both in response to Meg’s continued instructions and to hear her mutter that he’s being fidgety.

“Well wouldja look at that?” Meg grins and ruffles the hair on top of Cas’s head, bending a bit to push her cheek against his, “We can see your face now, can’t we pumpkin?”

He looks up at her and says, “You could see my face when my hair was longer.” She arches a single eyebrow and he adds, “But I like this better.”

“That’s what I thought. Now sit tight,” Meg unsnaps the cape and balls it up with the cuttings still inside before setting it off to one side of the bathroom.  Then she reaches into the black bag and pulls out a razor and a travel size shaving cream.  “I’d just make you do it, but fuckin’ Jerry would notice and I’d get written up or something stupid. So hold still and I won’t slice your face off.”

Cas nods seriously and sits up straighter, “I can sit still.”

“I know you can,” Meg says, squirting shaving cream into her hand before lathering it on his face, “I’d use a straight razor, closer shave, but they got all twitchy when I suggested bringing it in.  This thing’s practically a pair of safety scissors.” She steps back to rinse off her hand and leaves the tap running.

When she returns, she sets the razor against his jaw line and slowly draws it down to his chin before stopping to rinse it off again. “This is going to take forever,” Meg mutters. Cas just gives a faint smile and closes his eyes.

“Okie dokie, wings, we’re all done here,” Meg grins and rinses the razor off a last time before using a damp towel to wipe the excess shaving cream off of his face.

He opens his eyes and immediately glares at the mirror. “Meg—”

She cuts him off, “Uh uh, lazy ass. If I have to cut your hair and shave your face, I get to decide how it looks.” After wiping her hands off on the towel, Meg presses a finger against the soul patch she left just under Cas’s lower lip, “And if I want something to laugh at when I look at your face, you’re damn well going to leave it.  Maybe next time I won’t have to shave your face, hm?”

He doesn’t say anything, just sits and contemplates his vessel’s reflection in the mirror.  It can be difficult to focus on the outside as opposed to the trueforms within, but when Cas concentrates, he can manage.

“It’s acceptable,” Cas finally allows when Meg finishes sweeping up the rest of the cuttings on the floor.

Meg dumps everything she swept up into the trash and rolls her eyes, “I’m glad my work meets your exacting standards. Get up; it’s time for walkies.” She smacks her hand against the bathroom door and smirks, “If you don’t hurry, someone might steal your precious bench.”

“I doubt that highly,” Cas answers, standing up and gathering his sketch book and pencil box.

“Seriously?” Meg groans as they head toward the garden, “You can’t keep your hair neat, and you get charcoal all the fuck over you, but you use your mojo to make sure no one steals your _bench_?”

“I like to think I’ve got my priorities sorted,” Cas murmurs, following her out into the garden.


End file.
